


stay with me (no, i'll go with you)

by neon_air



Series: think how i'm right here (ever, ever, ever) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, HES ALWAYS HAD ONE, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Poor petey, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tumblr Prompt, Whump, cmon guys, like at all, like at this point?? how wouldnt he??, no beta bc suffering, seriously i have school tomorrow and im working on three (3) wips, the avengers talk like adults and still live together cus fuck me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 08:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neon_air/pseuds/neon_air
Summary: Tony is no stranger to nightmares, nor is he a stranger to helping others with nightmares. But it's very different from Peter and now Tony has to familiarize himself with helping the boy when his rests become less than peaceful.





	stay with me (no, i'll go with you)

**Author's Note:**

> yooooooo so i found a list of prompts that i wanna do and this is the first one. i'm probably not gonna do all of them but definitely most of them. so let's go 
> 
> prompt: "I heard you shout. Nightmares again?" 
> 
> prompt came from @reverseblackholeofwords on tumblr

From the time Tony had been young, nightmares had been a close acquaintance.

He didn’t remember his first nightmares, not when he could barely remember the ones from a few months ago, but he remembered the aftermath. Waking up in a panic, crying, unknowing of what was real or not, still wrapped up in the all too vivid dream. He learned from a young age that going to his parents wasn’t an option. While his mother had been kind and gentle where his father was harsh and cold, it all eventually fell apart. But even before it did, he never went to his parents after the first few lectures he got the times he had tried. He learned to calm himself down, to grab a book and the soft night light that didn’t shine bright enough to have its glow be seen from under the door. He learned that the darkness was nothing but an absence of light, that he could bring in that light. He learned that his dreams were just his mind running and that he could make his mind run with something else, with equations and formulas and designs and ideas. He learned that humming Italian lullabies to himself in the blue glow of his night light wasn’t quite as soothing as it was from his mother but that it worked all the same.

Even after he grew up, got out into the world, went out to MIT and met Rhodey, the nightmares persisted. At first, it was just flashes of his father, harsh words in his face and harsher hands on his face. Then it changed to Rhodey because for once he felt like he had someone who liked him for him, who didn’t think of him as just another invention to marvel at, who could match his wit beat for beat. He felt like he had, for the first time in his life, made an honest to God friend and there was nothing more terrifying to him than losing that. So his nightmares became images of Rhodey, sneering at him, walking away from him, using the same words his father would use with him, _disappointment, failure, mistake, good for nothing._ He’d wake up, heart racing, breathing erratically. Rhodey seemed to have a sixth sense for his nightmares back then because he’d always wake up a second later and calm Tony down. After every nightmare, Rhodey would hug him tightly and Tony would hear the voice of his father in his head, _Stark men are made of iron_ and hug back twice as tightly.

By the time Iron Man (how ironic) and the Avengers came around, Tony was sure that nightmares would be a permanent fixture in his life. PTSD didn’t exactly have a knack for just going away with a few measured breaths. But so what? Nightmares were nothing new. They could be dealt with, Tony knew how to manage. He knew what he was doing.

But then he came face to face with a dilemma.

Now it wasn’t that he thought that the people around him didn’t have nightmares. In the line of business they were all in, how could they not? Having PTSD is basically in the job description now and that came with a plethora of things, including nightmares. He had helped with the aftermaths before. He knew what song to hum to get Bruce to drift off again. He knew that Steve and Natasha needed quiet (and sometimes alone) time to unwind, to do something silent but still mentally stimulating. He knew that Clint needed to move around, go for a walk or a jog or whatever. He knew that Thor needed to be with someone, knew that he felt like he was drowning if he couldn’t find someone to talk with. He knew how to help afterward. But this was the first time he had ever been confronted with a nightmare in the process.

Over the years, the Avengers had picked up some new members. Sam was an interesting addition, sort of a mixture of Steve and Clint. Bucky was… odd to put things lightly but he mostly stayed with Natasha or Steve so Tony didn’t have to think about him much. Dr. Helen Cho always offered her help with medical things, though always with an exasperated air. The other strays picked up here and there became something akin to cousins that lived far and you only saw them once every two years for some holiday.

Out of all them, Peter Parker had to be Tony’s favorite and most stress-inducing addition to the team.

Peter was an amazing kid, there was no denying that for Tony. The kid was wickedly smart, quick, clever. He had a heart of pure, shiny gold and a soul even shinier, it made Tony wonder exactly how a kid like this could ever even exist. He was a goofy, smart, brave, stupid kid. Tony never thought about having kids, didn’t want to end up like his father, and the thought was banished from his mind as soon as he woke up that first day in that cave in Afghanistan. But Peter was like the kid he never thought he wanted. Peter was like the kid none of them thought they wanted.

When Peter was first brought to the team, there was the understandable apprehension. After all, who in the hell in their right mind would let a fifteen-year-old kid fight with the Avengers? But after Peter proved to be a powerhouse in combat and an even better strategizer (although most of his plans relied on scenes from movies), the team stopped questioning his presences in battles. That didn’t stop them from being protective. It could get oddly domestic at times. Tony liked it. Try and get him to admit it though.

But for as good of a kid as Peter was, he still was in the same line of business as the rest of them. And with that came nightmares.

Tony was in the kitchen when it happened. He had woken up late at night, or early in the morning depending on who you asked, for no other reason than that his body had naturally woken up. He didn’t entirely mind it, he had gotten a decent amount of sleep with no interruptions. Overall he felt pretty well rested. So he got up, careful to not wake a still-sleeping Pepper, and went into the kitchen. He made himself a small snack, enough to satisfy his peckish hunger, and went to move to the labs. He still had to fix up his suit from the latest battle. Who would’ve thought that big slime monsters could tear titanium alloy apart?

He walked to the elevators, not bothering with hitting the buttons as he knew Jarvis would just open the doors for him, and began to quick travel to the labs. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, still not completely awake yet.

“Sir.”

He opened his eyes as Jarvis’ voice. “Yes, Jarvis?” he said.

“Through my monitoring of the tower, it appears that Mr. Parker is having a nightmare.”

Tony blinked, tilted his head, then blinked again. Jarvis continued. “Your teammates have asked me not to report their nightmares for various different and personal reasons, but seeing as it is Mr. Parker’s first night here and that he had not stated nor asked me otherwise, I concluded that it would be appropriate to bring this to your attention.” There was a pause and Tony hated himself a little bit for being so clever with Jarvis’ programming because then Jarvis sounded quiet and perhaps saddened when he said, “He is crying and I recognize the beginning of hyperventilation setting in, which, if not soothed, could potentially trigger a panic attack, perhaps based on the content of his dream.”

Tony was… well, shocked isn’t quite the right word. He knew what came with being what they were, he knew it. But it seemed so odd to know that Peter was dealing with something like this. Something about the kid made Tony think that he was truly untouched by all that the teenager had seen throughout his life. Tony knew that Peter hadn’t had it easy, even before becoming Spider-Man, but this… this felt wrong. Tony felt like something was unbalanced, to know that sweet, gentle, dorky Peter Parker was currently grappling with a vicious nightmare.

“Jarvis, bring me to his floor.”

The elevator started going back up, quicker than usual. Tony would’ve smiled, thankful for Jarvis, if not for the situation.

As soon as the doors opened, Tony was moving. Peter had his own room at the tower, though this was his first time staying through the night, and shared a floor with the grand library. The floor wasn’t the biggest in the tower but perhaps the most mundane. Tony figured that Peter could use a little mundane in his extraordinary life.

Tony hurried to Peter’s room. He went over every trick in the book on how to calm someone down from a nightmare. He knew how to calm _himself_ down but nightmares and trauma were different for everybody. He had no idea what Peter had been through in its entirety, the kid was as stubborn as Tony was and refused to tell him everything.

 _I’ll figure it out,_ Tony told himself as he gently opened Peter’s door. He could already hear Peter’s distress coming from the room, a small yelp reaching his ears.

Peter was sprawled all over his bed, squirming this way and that. Face contorted in discomfort and obvious distress. Small choked sounds were coming from his mouths, the beginning of words but always cut off by another.

Tony could do nothing but stare for a second. That same feeling of wrongness settled in, nestled in his chest, made his heart jump. He broke out of his daze in the doorway and went to approach Peter, maybe wake him up, or just do something (the feeling of being completely useless was not one Tony liked) when Peter took in a sharp breath and jolted. For a moment, Tony just thought he was still dreaming but Peter’s eyes opened. Tears began to trail down his face. Quite possibly the most unnerving thing about it all was that now that Peter was awake, he was silent. Not a whimper escaped, just the sound of uneven but controlled breathing filled the room. Tony could tell that Peter was staving off an anxiety attack.

Tony found himself matching his breathing to Peter’s measured ones. He didn’t know if the kid had noticed him yet so he stayed put. Slowly, he reached over to the door and gave a gentle knock.

Peter didn’t jump but his eyes flash over to Tony in an instant. His eyes are glossy, reflecting the golden light from the hallway lamps. He held eye contact with Tony for a beat before wiping his face and sitting up, looking away.

“I heard you shout,” Tony said gently. “Nightmare?”

He knew it was a nightmare, of course, it was, but this gave Peter the chance to talk about it or push it away.

Peter nodded, eyes glued. He took in a shuddering breath and wipe his eyes again. “Sorry,” Peter managed to say.

“For what?” Tony asked patiently, leaning against the door but keeping his body language open.

Peter shrugged and said, “For waking you up or something.”

Tony figured it was “or something” but he was familiar with this habit of apologizing simply because he felt like he needed to. He just hated that Peter was familiar with it too.

Tony pursed his lips. He didn’t know how to do all this. He knew how to comfort but this was different. This was Peter. He was a kid, he wasn’t supposed to be dealing with this kind of stuff. But just because he wasn’t supposed to be dealing with it, doesn’t mean that that would erase it all.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tony offered but that didn’t feel right. Peter liked to talk but seeing as silent as he was now, Tony doubted that Peter would want to talk anytime soon.

His theory proved true when Peter shook his head, wiping his face again. They stayed there in silence for the next few moments. Tony didn’t know what to do. It felt so different from Peter, he couldn’t get his head on straight. He wanted to know what Peter's nightmare had been about, but he also didn't want to push. He wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and console him, but also didn't know their boundaries, at least not in this territory. 

Peter sniffed, pulling Tony from his not-really thoughts. Tony then noticed Peter's finger, tapping away beside him. It was the only movement from Peter at the moment, not even his eyes were really moving. Tony realized that Peter must still be battling the half-formed anxiety attack. 

Well, that wouldn't do. 

Tony liked to fix things. He was the mechanic, he was  _born_ to fix things. And while he didn't think of Peter as a project ( _what is and always will be my greatest_ creation _, is you),_ he was a kid. Kids needed guidance, they needed help. Tony didn't want to  _fix_ Peter, he wanted to help. 

So Tony clasped his hands together, lightly, not clapping as to not startle Peter. It was enough to grab his attention though. "I was going to head down to the labs, need to fix up the armor," he explained. "It's still all busted up from the slime monster thingys." He paused, making sure he had Peter's gaze. "You wanna help me?" 

Peter perked up, not brightening but the idea of working seemed to lighten his invisible burden. "Really?" Peter said, voice still quiet and croaky. It didn't sound as miserable though, so Tony counted it as a win. 

"Yeah," Tony hummed. "I could use an extra pair of eyes. An extra mind would be helpful too." 

Truth is, Tony could just scrap the suit. But Peter looked almost happy at the idea of working with Tony, on a suit no less, that Tony wasn't about to do anything but what would make the kid better. 

Peter sniffed again, wiping his face one more time. He nodded and muttered, "Yeah, okay. That sounds nice." 

Tony smiled, hoping it would tug one out of the kid. "C'mon," he said, shrugging his shoulders. He pushed himself from the doorframe. "I got snacks and ice cream down there too. Don't tell Pep, she'll call us both gremlins for it." 

Peter gave a small smile as he stood up, saying, "I mean, we kinda are." 

"How dare you insinuate that," Tony waxed dramatically, playing it up. "I am nothing less than a beautiful, wonderful man who simply likes midnight snacks. I am deeply offended, Pete." 

Tony didn't miss the flinch Peter tried to hide when Tony finished his words. Tony didn't say anything, just filed the nickname Pete under DO NOT USE. That was okay, as long as Peter was okay, as long as he felt safe. 

They made the trip down to the labs in silence. Tony couldn't tell if it was heavy or not, if it was just him or if it was the actual atmosphere. He hated that he didn't know what was going on, but he didn't want to push Peter. The kid had a tendency to hide things, especially if he thought whatever it was made him seem weak. But he also knew that he could reach out. Tony had seen him reach out to his friends, to May (that had been after a panic attack that gave Tony fifty more grey hairs. He'd never forget Peter's voice, small and teary, whimpering,  _May?_ ). Tony hoped that Peter knew he could reach out to Tony as well. 

They reached the labs and wasted no time getting to work. Even when Tony was pulling up the suit and anything he would need to repair it, Peter fidgeted and tweaked with something else. It looked like an old repulsor. It was dead from what Tony could see, but Peter dug into it with vigor, seemingly determined to forget whatever his dream had been. 

Peter put the same vigor into working on the suit. Tony gave him a job, something relatively simple, and Peter had it done within the first few minutes. They worked in silence, which Tony didn't necessarily like but he didn't bother with small talk. If Peter wanted quiet, then Tony could do that. Tony took on the bigger troubles, the welding, and major reprogramming, but Peter took care of just about everything else. The boy seemed ready to start building his own suit, probably for the sake of needing to do something with his hands. 

Tony hadn't noticed it at first. Tony just figured that Peter was tapping his fingers when his task only needed one hand. But when Tony pulled out of his own working headspace, he recognized it almost immediately. It just took him a second to put the sounds together. 

M.A.Y.T.H.I.R.D.

T.W.E.L.V.E.Z.E.R.O.T.H.R.E.E. 

Morse code. Huh. Tony hadn't known Peter knew morse code. 

Tony paused in his work. He looked at Peter, watched his finger tap out the words. Peter hadn't stopped, had barely noticed Tony's stare. He continued working, continued tapping. Tony pursed his lips, thinking. Peter hadn't spoken since they had left his room. Even when Tony had given him jobs, all he got back was a nod or a hum. But Peter knew morse code. He didn't want to speak but there were other ways to talk. Slowly, Tony went back to work but put one hand on the table beside him. He began to tap too. 

A.R.E.Y.O.U.O.K.A.Y. 

Tony tapped out the message until he knew Peter had noticed. Peter paused in his tapping, almost like he hadn't realized he was doing it and glanced at Tony's hand. His eyes flashed to Tony's for a quick second before back down to his hand. Peter swallowed and went back to his work. But his left hand empty. In a forced casual manner, Peter tapped back. 

K.I.N.D.A. 

W.A.N.T.T.O.T.A.L.K.A.B.O.U.T.I.T, Tony said. 

Peter shrugged. 

Tony bit his tongue but his finger moved before he could stop himself. 

W.H.A.T.H.A.P.P.E.N.E.D.O.N.M.A.Y.T.H.I.R.D. 

Peter froze. Tony didn't think he had ever seen Peter so still, so quiet, so  _small._

"Sorry," he said out loud. "Shouldn't have asked." 

Peter took in a big, deep, shaky breath through his nose, slowly letting it out through his mouth. Tony recognized the measured breathing, subconsciously matching his breathing to Peter's. He didn't know if it was for his sake or Peter's. 

"S'fine," Peter muttered. "Just didn't expect it." 

"You don't have to talk about it, kid," Tony told him quietly.

Peter didn't say anything, bouncing his leg, a nervous tick. They sat there in silence for a moment. Tony knew when to let the silence hang, to give someone the chance to order their thoughts. It was just a matter of whether or not Peter was going to voice those thoughts. Tony placed his tools on the table, lifting his goggles. He gave Peter his full attention. 

Peter breathed through three more measured breaths and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. His voice was low and quiet when he finally managed to speak. 

"Ben was killed on May third." 

It was Tony's turn to freeze. Tony's eyes darted to Peter but the boy still had his eyes closed. 

Tony knew who Ben was. He knew that Peter had been there the night the man had been killed. But Peter had never spoken about it. Never. Tony only knew what was public (and not-so-public) though that wasn't much. Tony hadn't even heard Peter mention Ben more than twice perhaps. 

Peter barreled on. "I was there. I'll never get any of it out of my head," Peter said. It sounded rushed, like Peter was just unloading, letting everything out. "I still see it. There doesn't have to be a reason, really, it'll just pop into my head and stay there. I hate it. I hate everything about it. In the nightmares, it's not a playback fo that night but it always has him in it and it's so fucking stupid. I hate it so much. I was there and I couldn't do anything. I was just sitting there, next to him, and god, it's just--The doctors were wrong, y'know? They said he died at 12:04. He didn't. It was a minute before. I know because I was  _fucking there--"_

Tony was moving before he could even think about it. Suddenly he was in front of Peter, who had begun crying somewhere in the middle of his rant, and took him into his arms. 

Peter seemed to tense for a moment before letting himself fall into Tony's chest. Tony continued on autopilot. Or, really, it was instinct. Taking the majority of Peter's weight, he wound his arms around the sobbing boy. One around his waist and the other across his back, reaching up to cradle Peter's head. Tony felt Peter grip onto his shirt, twisting it up in his fists. Gently, Tony swayed minutely side to side, listening to each heart-wrenching cry from Peter. He found himself humming the same lullabies he used to sing to himself at night. 

Tony didn't know how long they stayed there. Minutes, hours, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was the kid in his arms. This poor, poor, amazing kid. Tony scorned the world for the trials it had put Peter through but silently praised the boy for his strength, determination, and will. Tony truly believed that Peter would be the best of all of them. 

"He would be so proud of you, Peter," he muttered. 

He felt Peter let out a shuddering breath, the first controlled one he had managed since he started crying. "He's why--" Peter coughed, "--why I became Spider-Man, y'know? I wasn't going to do anything with my powers. I wasn't. I wasn't made for being a superhero. But then he wa-was kill-killed and I just--I wanted to make him proud. I wanted to stop anyone who tried to take away people like that. I wanted to help people. I've always wanted to but then I had a chance. All because of Ben." 

Tony pulled back, just enough to be able to look at Peter. He was looking at the ground, not avoiding Tony's gaze, just lost in thought. Tony tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Peter looked up, eyes lined red. Tony took in a deep breath. "He," Tony said, "would be so proud of everything you have done, Peter. As Spider-Man and as Peter Parker. He must be teeming with it, just overflowing with pride." Tony made sure Peter held his gaze. "I have no doubt in my mind that he loved you, kid. You've made him more than proud." 

Peter's eyes danced over Tony's face. Tony wondered if he was looking for some specific but whatever Peter had been looking for, he must've found because he smiled. Big and bright, it was the first full-blown smile Tony had seen from him since the day before. Something about it made Tony feel victorious. 

Peter laid his head on Tony's chest again. He felt Peter tap out the beat of his heart against his back. "Thank you, Tony," he mumbled, suddenly overcome with sleep. 

Later, Tony would help Peter over to the couch in the lab. He would place the softest blanket down there over the kid and dim the lights. He would have Jarvis monitor his vitals, have Jarvis make sure to alert him any time it looked like Peter might wake up. He would smile and gently brush back a stray hair from Peter's forehead. Later, he would contact his therapist, asking for recommendations for youth therapists. He would refresh his memory with every term and definition relating to PTSD and depression and anxiety. He would research the best ways to help younger people with mental illnesses. He would do his best to do right by Peter. 

But for now, Tony just ran his fingers through Peter's hair, a subconscious action, and said, "No problem, kiddo." 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Check out my dumpster fire of a tumblr: neon-air


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